


The Mini Mauler

by TaraLaurel1



Category: Four Brothers (2005)
Genre: Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Child Abuse, Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Halloween, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kid Jack, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLaurel1/pseuds/TaraLaurel1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween fic. "The sight stunned even stoic Bobby Mercer. Entrails were strewn sloppily all over the counter tops, dropping and staining the tile. Evelyn's form was motionless. And then there was Jack. He stood over the entire scene silently, knife clutched in his small fingers." Bobby takes young Jack trick-or-treating for the 1st time. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And Then There Was Jack

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: The Mini Mauler
> 
> CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter One/ And Then There Was Jack
> 
> RATING: T (language and mature content)
> 
> A/N: A short little Halloween treat. I LOVE Halloween and Jack/Bobby Halloween scenarios!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own Four Brothers or Halloween. I don't even own a pumpkin. Sad.

Jack's small laughter rang like bells, cascading softly, yet beautifully, through the house. Evelyn's soulful and rumbling hooting and snorting followed in happy harmony.

Bobby couldn't help but crack a grin at the sweet sounds as he stepped through the front door, no matter how syrupy or sappy that made him. His mother worked far too much for his liking and the nature of her job rarely called for humor, or even smiles.

And then there was Jack. He hadn't been with them for very long, but they seized every opportunity to draw any emotion out of the child. Bobby still was overtaken by chills whenever Jack reverted to his natural, or more accurately, adapted, cold and vacant state. Bobby had used violence and rage. Angel employed the same to a lesser extent, coating himself healthily in layers of lies and schemes and icy brooding silence. Jerry had been quiet too, but he resorted to small, discreet acts of rebellion. Bobby had wanted to rip out his hair at his younger brothers' antics, but would gladly prefer and deal with those terrors than with Jack's apparent defense mechanism. It was as if he shut himself down. Physically, he was there, but they all knew his mind was somewhere else, back behind those haunting hollow eyes.

Evelyn attempted to reel Jack back to reality with activities. She would put music and have him help her around the house with any and everything. The busyness helped distract Jack from wherever it was he went when left alone with only his thoughts.

Jerry used projects, similar to Evelyn's tactics. Jeremiah had already taught Jack how to build a birdhouse and a small wooden toy plane. Of course, Jerry swore Jack to secrecy as he didn't need Bobby or Angel learning he was teaching Jack such things. Making toys, even if it was with tools and wood, could be made into a joke. That actually seemed to excite Jack more than the work itself. It made him feel like he was truly part of the family.

Angel had a different approach at cracking the child's shell. At first, he hadn't been too keen on obtaining a younger brother and didn't like Jack's odd behavior. He was almost downright cold to Jack before a stern speech from Evelyn, and a glimpse into Jack's past through witnessing one of his nightmares, softened Angel's icy exterior. He taught Jack a few simple card games and tricks. He didn't think the method was working until Jack beat Bobby in a game and the boy beamed brighter than any of them had ever seen. Bobby resisted calling a rematch and Angel went on to instruct Jack in more kid-friendly games when Evelyn discovered her new sever year old son gambling. The kid was now the king of checkers and Pictionary in their house.

Bobby's methods were by far the most questionable. He was firm with Jack, almost too much so for Evelyn's comfort. Evelyn was in no way a meek mother, but also didn't have Bobby's –  _charm_. The eldest Mercer teased Jack relentlessly his first week there. That was, until Jack finally screamed at him, tackling Bobby in the process. It was the one fight Bobby Mercer allowed himself to lose. He pretended to be taken down by Jack's lunge and proceeded to let the kid kick and scratch and punch, rage and tears pouring out. To Bobby, that emotional release was as satisfying to see and hear the boy's laughter.

Anything was better than that void.

A sudden silence pulled Bobby away from his musings. A hush had fallen over the house. He waited for his mother's voice, footsteps, anything. Curiosity and worry fueling him, Bobby padded through the hall and froze just before the threshold to the kitchen. The sight stunned even stoic Bobby Mercer. Entrails were strewn sloppily all over the countertops, dropping and staining the tile. Evelyn's form was motionless.

And then there was Jack.

He stood over the entire scene silently, knife clutched in his small fingers.


	2. An Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TITLE: The Mini Mauler
> 
> CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Two/ An Accident
> 
> RATING: T (language and mature content)
> 
> A/N: dun dun dun
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own Four Brothers.

"Holy –" Bobby breathed the word, unintentionally making his presence known.

Jack jumped, reeling around to face the intruder, his hands flying up, his palms covered in the same discoloration as the blade that now crashed to the floor.

"What the hell did you do?" Bobby stepped cautiously forward.

"Bobby, language. And be nice."

Bobby glanced over at his mother who was still standing, unmoving, staring at the source of all this mess.

"He massacred it, Ma!" Bobby exclaimed, joining her to get a better viewing angle.

"So we had a little trouble in the beginning," Evelyn winked at Jack, neglecting to tell Bobby about the innards throwing fight the two had partaken in. "I – I'm just speechless, It's so wonderful!"

"What is it?" Bobby squinted.

Evelyn swatted her son with a towel and proceeded to cross the kitchen, switching the lights off. She returned next to Bobby, grabbing a candle off the table.

"Would you like to do the honors, Jack?"

Evelyn handed Jack the candle and the youngest Mercer seemed to calm as he hesitantly took it.

"Just like I showed you, Jackie," Evelyn encouraged him.

And when the candle was in place, Bobby just about fell over.

What Bobby saw surprised even him. Amassing and entire side of the pumpkin, a glowing skeletal face stared back at him. It wasn't the simply triangular eyes, square nose and slice of a mouth. This was a detailed and intricate illustration of a human skull. It wasn't something you would find winning a contest, but it was definitely nothing most seven year olds could accomplish. The edges were remarkably smooth and straight. The angle was done so as to view the entire skeletal profile, but that it still appeared to be peering at onlookers straight-on, as if three dimensional.

Jack stepped back and Bobby nearly laughed at how serious the boy became. His brow turned in on itself, his intent eyes seeming to lock with the skeleton's. With a silent hum, Jack returned to the carving and began tediously scraping and sliced away at some flaw Bobby never even noticed.

"I think he cheated," Bobby finally spouted. "Who really did this?"

"Jack made this all by himself. Wouldn't even let me help.  _Artists_." Evelyn rolled her eyes in good humor and plucked Jack's finished masterpiece off the table. "Put this outside, please, Bobby. What do you say, Jack? Want to do another one?"

"How 'bout a spider?" Jack asked excitedly.

"I thought you liked spiders," Evelyn teased. "I told you to pick something scary."

"I know," Jack shrugged, a ghost of a grin creeping against his face. "They scare Bobby and Angel."

"Is that so?" Evelyn's forehead arched in amusement as Bobby's deflated.

"Skeletons are my favorite. They're so cool. But Jerry's scared 'a them." Jack continued to explain.

For such a withdrawn child, apparently he was also acutely observant. Bobby was ready to defend himself and his dignity when Evelyn spoke.

"Trying to scare your brothers on Halloween, huh? Well, you truly are one of my sons."

The comment seemed to fill Jack with a certain pride that was almost enough to stay Bobby's retort. Almost.

"You call that scarin' us, Ma? Do I have to remind everyone the time I convinced Jerry and Angel a damned serial killer moved in next door and was grabbin' up all the snot-nosed brats that asked for candy?"

"Do I have to remind  _you_ , Bobby Mercer, of the near heart attack you gave me when your brothers came home  _screaming_ , or the broken front door of Mr. Murphy's house that you had to fix?"

"How was I supposed to know the  _girls_  were actually men enough to take my dare and break in – or that Angel was gonna freakin' rip the thing off its hinges as he ran outside 'cause he saw his own damn shadow?"

Evelyn's challenging glance silenced the eldest Mercer brother's rant. Bobby was stalled, though, by something else too. Jack was snickering under his breath. Bobby smiled in approval.

"Get that pumpkin outside before you drop it – or smash it," Evelyn warned with a smile.

Bobby chuckled and obeyed. Jack was already beginning to cut into the second orange canvas.

"Let me help you clean it out this time," Evelyn joined him, switching the light on before doing so. "I need to use this kitchen after you're done redecorating it, you know."

Jack smiled softly and scooted his chair over to make room for her. He continued sawing away until the miniature blade suddenly slipped sharply from his hand – and into Evelyn's.

Evelyn pulled her arm back as if the pumpkin was on fire. A curse slipped past her lips as she hurried to the sink. Bobby sauntered back into the room just in time to see her removing the tool from her palm and wrapping her hand with a towel.

"What happened?" Bobby demanded and darted to her side.

Jack jumped backwards off his chair, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

"I didn't do it!"

"Jack," Evelyn started softly, moving towards him.

"It was an accident,' his voice was high and frantic, panic lacing his throat. "I – I – I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Jack sounded as he did when he was possessed by one of his nightmares. He clumsily backed himself into a corner, eyeing the door.

"Calm the hell down, Jack," Bobby put his hands up in surrender as Evelyn had taught him with both Angel and Jack.

"I didn't mean it! It – it slipped and I – couldn't – I should've –"

Bobby worried the kid would bolt, as he so often did, at any moment. Keeping a concerned eye on his mother as she tended to her wound, Bobby dared to close the gap between him and Jack.

"Please! Please, don't. I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Don't –"

"I ain't gonna hurt you," Bobby cut off his brother's blubbering.

"Jackie," Evelyn was beside him now. "I'm not mad. Come on, now. Hey. You look at me. Right now. Listen to me, Jack. I am  _not_ angry. Neither is Bobby."

"But – but – I – I hurt you."

"No. A cheap and flimsy knife from a dime store carving kit that I've had since before I had Bobby did. I should've replaced those darn things years ago. It wasn't your fault."

Jack swallowed and coughed, seeming to be trying to ingest his emotions and tears. His legs steadied and his eyes ceased darting to the door.

"Sorry," he muttered to the floor.

"No need for apologies," Evelyn gently reprimanded, "but I do believe there is a need for stitches."

"Let me take a look, Ma," Bobby turned towards her.

"Bobby Mercer, just because you insist of sloppily stitching up your own cuts and scrapes with whatever needle and thread or super glue you can find does not mean I am going to let you do the same to my hand."

Her scolding was sarcastic, soft and lined with love. Bobby had to give her credit. He could see the almost alarming amount of crimson leaking through the fabric, yet she didn't even seem scathed. His mother was the toughest woman he knew.

"Alright, alright. I'll drive you –"

"Nonsense. I will not have my sons spending Halloween at the hospital. Lord knows how long the wait is going to be with all the  _mischief_ people get into tonight. No. I'll call Renee Archer from down the street."

"That lady hates me," Bobby scoffed. "She'll probably think I attacked you."

"Robert Mercer. She is a nice woman. You wouldn't be very fond of her if  _she_ set  _your_ mailbox on fire –  _twice_  – or broke her window with a hockey puck."

"I was sixteen. And I still never got it back."

"I told you she would give it back when you apologized."

"Then she can keep it," Bobby huffed.

"It's nice to see you've grown up, Bobby," Evelyn chided, shaking her head and sighing with laughter. "You'll have to take Jack trick-or-treating tonight."

Both boys snapped their heads towards Evelyn. One in fear. One in disgust.


	3. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TITLE: The Mini Mauler
> 
> CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Three/Safe
> 
> RATING: T (language and mature content)
> 
> A/N: Time for a little brotherly cuteness...
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own Four Brothers or Halloween..or a hockey jersey. Dang. I can't even wear the one football jersey I have anymore because the guy left our team and went all kinds of crazy.

Bobby lay sprawled out on the couch, bowl of popcorn balancing on his stomach and a beer nestled in between the cushions. He watched apathetically as some blonde brainless college student was sliced to pieces on the screen in front of him. His attention lazily wandered over to where Jack sat on the floor. His little brother's eyes were anywhere but the screen, mostly focused on the floor, his hands pulling at the ends of his sleeves.

"You sure this the movie you wanted to watch?" Bobby asked skeptically.

He had already been suspicious when Jack asked if they could watch the thriller marathon he had heard Angel excitedly talking about. Angel had been flapping his jaw all week about some horror movie marathon that was playing on Halloween, and about the girl who had agreed to watch it alone with him at her house. Jerry had been sent along as Evelyn's form of supervision for the parentless preteens. Even only going on 13, Angel's head was already spinning in the direction of girls.

The sun had already set and the film hadn't even moved past the opening kill scene yet.

"Well, come on Jack-o-latern, you heard Ma. Trick-or-treatin' time. Let's go."

Bobby switched off the movie right before the girl was about to get it, not exactly wanting Jack to witness that. Bobby was all about corrupting his little brothers, but Jack was still too young, too sensitive, and too damaged for something like that. Bobby knew the kid had seen enough real violence in his short life and he probably didn't want to watch anymore.

"Can –can we finish it?" Jack asked sheepishly.

"You're not even watchin'," Bobby called the boy out as he pulled himself off the couch. "Come on. You got the flashlight Ma gave you?"

Jack swallowed and stared at Bobby, finally shaking his head.

"Well," Bobby sighed, trying to temper his impatience, "where is it?"

Jack simply shrugged.

"You lost it?" Bobby asked incredulously. "In one day? In one house? I swear, Jack you'd lose your damn head if it wasn't stuck on your neck." He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. "Ma's got loads. I'll grab one. Go get your princess or butterfly costume."

"I – I don't have one," Jack's voice was almost undetectable.

"Ma said she finished it this morning and it's upstairs. I know you already tried the damn thing on. Go get it."

"I can't." Jack insisted.

"And whey the hell not?"

"I – uh – I ruined it," Jack whispered and flinched, waiting for the hit he would have received in his past life.

"Stop doin' that," Bobby sighed. "What'd you do?"

"I – uh – I – I ripped it – on accident."

"Well, go get it. Maybe we can save the damn thing. If I can stitch up a leg or hand, I can fix it. Just don't tell anyone or you'll be eating dirt instead of candy tonight."

Jack wordlessly nodded and shuffled upstairs, Bobby again taking a longer drink. Jack returned not long after with two halves of a pirate costume.

"What the hell did you do?" Bobby examined the shards in shock.

"It was an accident." Jack spoke quickly.

"You sure are havin' a lot 'a those today." Bobby huffed and Jack quaked.

"Alright, ya fairy, I think Ma has one of my old hockey jerseys around here somewhere that might fit you. She keeps all that sentimental shit."

"I can't wear that," Jack said quietly, yet incredulously.

"And why not?" Bobby crossed his arms, slightly offended.

"It's  _yours_ ," Jack said as if was simply the most common sense answer in the world.

"So what? Now it's yours. You're gonna need one when I take you out on the ice once you're not just a little shrimp of nothin' but skin, hair and bones. You can even take my old stick."

Jack made an odd face that made Bobby pause.

"You don't have to," Bobby sighed, trying to sort out the migraine of confusion this kid caused him. "Angel's got some football gear and Jerry –"

"I can't take their stuff!" Jack was acting like they were committing armed robbery.

"Shit, I do it all the time. We all do. No big deal."

"They're not here. It wouldn't be right."

"Damn it, Jack, you want me to call 'em? As their fucking permission?"

Jack shook his head silently, quieted by the volume of his brother's voice.

"Alright. Let's go find that jersey and get me and you some damn candy. Sound good?"

Jack merely shrugged and followed his brother back upstairs.

Bobby wanted to scratch his head. Maybe he would bore away a hole in his brain and dig out the whiplash and dumbfounded headache. Earlier, Jack had been more excited for Halloween than any kid he had ever seen and was chomping at the bit to go trick-or-treating. Now, it was as if he was dreading it.

The junior league jersey swallowed Jack's gangly frame without much effort, falling down to his knees. It was hardly anything special to the casual observer, but to Bobby it was priceless. The entire team was graciously gifted with these red and white shirts. There was a microscopic emblem in the corner of the chest that bore the league's logo. That was its only decoration. It was a small association sponsored by an even smaller part of the community. Bobby wasn't allowed to join any of the other leagues right away because of his colorful background. Nevertheless, Evelyn had dutifully paid the dues, received the simple shirt, and had proceeded to adorn the jersey with her own personal and uniquely Evelyn touch. By the time she was done, Mercer was sewn along the back shoulders, along with the last two numbers of Bobby's birth year on the front and back. The team's name, logo, and other motherly touches were added as well.

Bobby was ready to comment on his little brother wearing a dress when he noticed Jack's face.

"You cryin'" Bobby was too taken aback to crack a joke.

"No," Jack muttered, quickly turning and not-so-discreetly swiping at his betraying watery eyes.

"You're a real shitty liar, you know that?" Bobby crossed his arms. 'What are you gonna do next, fake sick?"

"Huh?" Jack glanced up with curious and sad eyes.

"Jack, tell me the truth or I swear –" he let the threat hang loosely in the air. "Do you wanna go trick-or-treatin'?"

It took a moment, but finally Jack nodded almost mechanically.

"Then why all this shit? You didn't lose your flashlight. You don't like scary movies. And that costume wasn't ripped on accident. Now you're gonna tell me what the hell is goin' on. Do you wanna go or not?"

"Yeah –"

"Then why are you – "

"'Cause I'm scared," Jack finally whimpered, staring down at the floor, his voice almost disappearing into the carpet.

"Scared? Scared 'a what? You weren't scared earlier."

"No – but – I was, I mean, before she was, but now, but Evelyn's not –" Jack either didn't finish or his voice dropped to a level only his chin could hear.

"I get it," Bobby nodded.

"Kids at school said Halloween is when all the monsters come out," Jack cried through the jersey sleeves as he pawed at his tears.

"Are you serious?" Bobby laughed. "Jackie, monsters aren't real, man."

"Yes they are," Jack said it so seriously it made Bobby's blood run cold, and then boil.

This wasn't about the Boogeyman or werewolves or vampires. This was about a real, disgusting, terrifying, monster. A monster Jack had faced for far too long alone. A monster Bobby would have no problem shooting full of stakes or silver bullets.

"He ain't gonna get you," Bobby kneeled down to lift Jack's face so their eyes could meet. "Well, would you look at that? Huh. No flinch, kid."

The corners of Jack's mouth curled.

"I shoulda' given you my old jersey months ago," Bobby mused.

"Just borrowin' it," Jack corrected sheepishly.

"Nah. I said what I meant, Jackie-O. It's yours. You didn't run away from me just now, so you must trust me, huh?"

"I guess."

"How does that jersey make you feel, Jack?"

"Kinda sweaty," Jack shrugged and Bobby bit back a bark of laughter.

"That jersey makes you a hockey player. Hockey players are tough. Strong. No one messes with 'em."

"No one?"

"No one," Bobby nodded.

"It makes me feel safe," Jack whispered.

Bobby had to choke back tears of his own. Bobby understood fear. And he certainly knew distrust. Even if Jack didn't understand, Bobby knew what had just transpired. Jack didn't let Bobby touch him because of some costume. The jersey wasn't what made Jack feel safe. The jersey felt safe, because now to Jack, Bobby felt safe.

"Tell you what, you keep it and wear it whenever you wanna feel safe, okay?"

Yet another wordless nod from Jack.

"You ready to go score some candy?" Bobby asked his younger brother with a pat on the back.

Jack's head bobbed happily, the smile playing at the edge of his lips finally covering his face.


	4. Not Just Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TITLE: The Mini Mauler
> 
> CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Four/Not Just Candy
> 
> RATING: T (language and mature content)
> 
> A/N: This ended up being WAY more than the little simple one shot I had planned! 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Four Brothers.

"Lemme see," Bobby nodded at Jack's pillowcase as the boy bounded back down one of the many font steps he had stood on that night.

Jack opened his sack and Bobby peered inside.

"That ain't nothin'," Bobby scoffed. "What're you doin', Jack? Givin' it back?"

Jack just shrugged.

"Look, if you wanna get extra, just pretend you're hurt or sad or somethin'. People eat that shit up." Bobby grinned.

"You – you  _want_  me to  _lie?_ " Jack look partially intrigued, partially horrified. "But Evelyn –"

"Shit, Jackie, don't faint over it. It ain't the bad kind 'a lyin', like Ma don't want us to do." Bobby reasoned.

"There's  _good_  lies?" Jack furrowed his small brow.

"Look Jack," Bobby sighed in frustration, "it ain't gonna hurt anyone. Do it or don't. Just hurry the hell up and get some candy so we can go home."

Jack merely nodded and shuffled off to the next house reluctantly. Of course, Jack had already been lying. He had lied to Bobby when he had asked why he barely had any candy. Bobby had been so nice to Jack that night already. He couldn't tell him. He would just bother him and make himself look like a baby.

Jack wasn't a baby. He couldn't be a baby. He was a hockey player.

Letting that feeling of safety from the jersey wash over him, Jack swallowed and returned on his candy finding mission. As he felt the fabric against his skin, he found he wasn't scared anymore.

With new strength and a little straighter posture, Jack marched up the steps to the next house.

"Look who's back," a black haired boy who was lined up at the door snickered towards the youngest Mercer.

"He wants to give us more candy," a blonde pirate chuckled at his own joke.

The door to the house opened and suddenly all the children were on their most glowing behavior, gleefully and greedily holding out their bags and buckets to receive their share of chocolate. Once the door slid shut once more, the boys abandon their masquerade.

"Okay," the raven haired zombie turned to the hockey player, "hand it over."

Unlike before, this time, Jack didn't immediately comply. When the boys saw this, their laughter ceased and suddenly they were advancing on Jack right there on the front stoop of a stranger's house.

"Do it," the pirate spat.

Finding that resolve somewhere in the seams of his new jersey, Jack pulled his head up, bringing his eyes from his feet to meet his foes face to face. His eyes held no terror as they so often did. He wasn't quivering or falling into some sort of frightful fit. Instead, he let authority glaze over his gaze. Superiority strengthened his stance. Fight clenched between his fists. And vigor laced his small voice.

"No."

The zombie made to grab Jack's sack, but Jack whipped the bag back, sending it flying straight at the black haired boy's face. The zombie toppled backwards, knocking over his werewolf friend in the process. The pirate lunged at the hockey player, but Jack was too quick. His reactions were instinctive. He ducked and leapt and came out unscathed while the blonde boy nearly tripped over his own feet. Anger was now bubbling underneath his skin, boiling beneath the fabric of the jersey. It was no longer just about self-defense. This wasn't about candy. It was never about candy. As the raw rage washed over Jack, the youngest Mercer dropped his pillowcase to the ground, lifting his hand to land a punch against the pirate's jaw. The boy swiftly sidestepped the attack and pounced again. Jack was caught off guard by the assault and found himself on his back, the pirate on top of him.

Or, at least, he had been.

Before Jack could even blink, the pirate was being lifted off of him and into the air by a large set of hands.

"What the hell?" The kid cursed and kicked out before landing none too gently on the pavement.

He hastily stood and sought out his attacker, a vengeful gleam in his eyes. When that glare landed on a towering Bobby Mercer, though, it suddenly shrunk. Fear replaced fury. The eldest Mercer simply stared at the boy. He didn't need to say a single word before the pirate, quickly followed by the werewolf and zombie, turned tail and ran.

Fierce eyes followed the three boys until they had disappeared into the darkness down the street. His gaze significantly softer, yet still hardened around the edges, Bobby turned to Jack, extending a hand to his little brother. The boy surprisingly took it and nearly jumped to his feet.

Bobby waited for the breakdown. Any moment now Jack would stiffen or start shaking. He might scream at nothing or press his eyelids closed so tight it hurt. Tears would flood his cheeks. Sometimes he would even collapse.

This time, though, Jack did something that Bobby never expected.

He smiled.

Jack  _smiled_.

Jack was reluctant to shed a smile even during happy circumstances. Now he was full on grinning, a sly smirk twisting against his lips here and there amidst the smile.

Bobby was reeling. Maybe his new baby brother had finally lost it.

"What the hell you got that shit eatin' grin for, Cracker Jack?" Bobby finally blurted, unable to stop himself.

Jack merely pointed towards the ground, a sort of prideful glint in his eyes. Bobby followed his gaze to where three sacks of candy lay, discarded during the boys' retreat.

Bobby looked back up at Jack, his own smile spreading across his face. The eldest Mercer shook his head and bent over to gather the abandon sweets.

Without any words between the two of them, the brothers collected their treasure and headed down the street towards home.

It wasn't until halfway down the road, where a patch of defective and darkened streetlights stood side by side, that Bobby felt that familiar crawling sensation up his spine. All of the Mercers had almost a sixth sense for danger from growing up with it almost always all around them. Bobby knew immediately that Jack felt it too as the boy tensed beside him. Their eyes roamed the darkness surrounding them, Bobby instinctively stepping closer to his little brother, a protective arm going around Jack's shoulders.

It wasn't until he heard the footsteps growing near behind them that Bobby turned around to meet the cold eyes of their pursuers. Before his body had even completed the 180 degree maneuver, Bobby had pushed Jack behind him with one arm, his other reaching into his waistband. Bobby wasn't stupid. Even on Halloween, no,  _especially_  on Halloween, you never walked the streets of Detroit without some heat behind you.

Their eyes met and before Bobby could properly raise his weapon, something hard collided with the side of his head. The eldest Mercer crumpled over right before Jack's wide eyes.

"Well, hey there," the older boy who appeared to be a few years younger than Bobby, but several feet taller, spoke to Jack with mock kindness. "You got somethin' that belongs to my little brother."

Jack peered around the towering stranger to see the blonde pirate from before smirking.

"Not so tough without your bodyguard," the kid sneered.

If Bobby had been awake he would have made some sarcastic, and probably colorful, comment about the boy's cliché line and hypocritical nature behind it. But of course, Bobby was currently lying unconscious on the ground.

The boy was right.

Jack was alone.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TITLE: The Mini Mauler
> 
> CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter Five/Not Alone
> 
> RATING: T (language and mature content)
> 
> A/N: This was going to be two chapters, as it is much longer than the others, but I couldn't seem to find a good breaking point. I didn't want to stretch out the first part, or push off the ending. It might be weird crushing the two times and the memories all into one chapter, but I hope it's still okay. After the attack and Bobby's memories was intended as an epilogue, but, oh well. I hope you enjoyed the story! Sorry if you don't like the turn it takes and the ending!

Jack didn't hesitate.

He ran. He ran as fast as his little legs would carry him. Unfortunately, although he probably was faster, the older boy was larger. His long strides had him easily catching up and then rounding on the youngest Mercer in only a few seconds.

"You gonna run, like some baby?" The teenager chuckled.

Jack wasn't a baby. He couldn't be a baby. He was a hockey player.

He was a Mercer.

"No one to protect you now," the pirate spat.

He was wrong.

As Jack looked down at his shirt, he realized, he wasn't alone. Not really. Bobby may have been in a heap on the ground behind him, but Jack could still feel his presence and that protection surround him.

Letting that feeling of safety from the Bobby wash over him, Jack swallowed and returned his eyes to his enemy. As he felt that now familiar fabric against his skin and thought of his brother behind him, he found he wasn't scared anymore.

With new strength and a little straighter posture, Jack marched up to the older boy.

His small fist curled in on itself. With every last ounce of power he could put into it, Jack catapulted his arm forward, punching the teenager straight in the stomach.

The stranger stiffened, his once narrowed eyes now wide. He stumbled backwards a little as he grabbed his brother by the collar. Without a word, he hauled the younger boy down the street, sprinting the whole way.

Jack hadn't seen the way the teenager's gaze had lifted above the youngest Mercer's head. He had neglected to hear Bobby awake and stand. He didn't notice that when his fist connected with the teenager's body, Bobby had been in the process of lifting his gun to greet their attacker's face.

Bobby never told Jack any of this of course and the youngest Mercer took great pride and delight in recounting his brave and heroic adventure to his other brothers.

Jack wore that jersey the following day. And then the next day. Four days later Evelyn finally made him shed it for washing. The boy continued to wear it regularly. It adorned him on his first days of school for several years. He would pull it out after he had a nightmare. When Bobby would leave, Jack would be inseparable with it for weeks. As he grew up and grew out of the garment, Jack still never was rid of it. Even as it no longer fit him, he also no longer always needed the physical reminder of safety. He didn't need the jersey any longer, but that didn't mean he would part with it. He brought it in his luggage to New York and sometimes even hung it up in his dressing room at out of state gigs. It came home with him when his mother died, and was there, sitting underneath his bed, when he was shot.

When Jack died, it was months before Bobby went in their old bedroom. Even during the repairs to the house, Jerry and Angel took care of Jack's window soberly and silently, no one saying a word about Bobby's absence. It wasn't until all signs of snow had long since left Detroit's ground, spring and summer had come and gone, and the leaves had changed colors when he finally braved that threshold.

It was Halloween night. Bobby's first Halloween back in that house in so many years he couldn't even remember. He had stayed after the shooting for his mother and brothers, but with snow in the forecast, he was unsure how much longer he could linger.

He had to do this, though, before he left.

He owed it to himself. He owed it to Jack.

Stepping through the doorframe was like stepping back in time. The room had hardly been touched, save the window repairs. Jack's familiar scent still miraculously hung in the air. It alone nearly sent Bobby to his knees. He shuffled across the carpet and collapsed at the foot of the bed. Sinking down to the floor, Bobby leaned his head against the bed. He could almost hear Jack's voice and that awful noise he liked to call music coming from his guitar.

_"You been cryin' in here, you little fairy?"_

_"Leave it alone, man."_

That day felt like yesterday. And just like that, Bobby felt his heart rip open and the wounds of his mother's and brother's deaths felt as fresh as the days they had happened.

How many times had the two of them sat like that together after Bobby's bed had been moved out, Jack leaning against his headboard, Bobby on the floor? It was almost habit whenever Bobby had visited home. Sometimes they ragged on Jerry and Angel, other times they discussed things that they only would ever discuss to each other. And then sometimes, they didn't even speak at all. They were just there. Together.

_"So, Ma tells me you got invited to some big party that you ain't goin' to." Bobby had plopped down on the floor promptly after announcing he was home for the weekend. "You gonna tell me why instead of goin' out,_ tonight _, you're up in here, locked in your room, actin' like some girl?_

_It was Halloween. Jack's favorite holiday. And here he was, doing nothing._

_He was far too old now to be trick or treating or egging houses. He wasn't much for knocking over mailboxes or setting anything on fire like Bobby had been as a teenager. But he still loved the day. Maybe Evelyn had rubbed off on him a little. Of course, Evelyn loved all holidays, and any chance to decorate and bake and give to others._

_"I just ain't goin' out," Jack had shrugged._

_"Why?"_

_"No reason."_

_"You are a shitty liar, Cracker Jack."_

_Jack hadn't offered a response at that. He simply retreated into his shell, silently strumming his guitar. Jack frowned at the sound and reached over to tune the flat string. Bobby noted the trivial movement almost apathetically. He had watched his brother and that guitar for years and still never understood what exactly Jack was listening for when he strummed, what Bobby imagined, was the same note over and over, until Jack suddenly became satisfied._

_This time, though, the action wasn't so unimportant and Bobby's eyes were anything but indifferent. His hardened gaze zeroed in on a sickeningly shaded patch of skin that decorated Jack's wrist where his shirt sleeve had fallen._

_Jack seemed to feel Bobby's glare and glanced up, only to have realization strike. He snapped his arm back against his body as if the guitar was on fire._

_"What the hell was that?" Bobby demanded, standing now._

_"Nothin'," Jack shrugged again. "I was stupid."_

_"We all know you're stupid, Jack," Bobby spat, the sarcasm not quite reaching his voice. "Answer my fuckin' question."_

_Jack looked as though he was about to argue but then thought better of it. A few years earlier, sure, he would have yelled and stormed out. Now, well, now he knew it just wasn't worth it. Bobby would find out. He always did. And Bobby's way of learning the truth was usually far more painful._

_"Just some shithead at school," Jack mumbled._

_"They messin' with you?" Bobby growled._

_"So what?" Jack shrugged for a third time, making Bobby want to grab his brother's shoulders and shake them._

_"This punk at the party tonight? That why you ain't goin'."_

_Jack didn't respond and Bobby knew this kind of Jack-quiet._

_"What else?" Bobby ground out and then repeated the question with a few choice words when Jack didn't reply._

_Sighing, Jack set his guitar aside and lifted up the front of his shirt. Bobby felt sick as he stared in shock at the discolored marks that adorned his baby brother's chest and stomach._

_"Well, he's a smart shithead, I'll give him that," Bobby ground out. "Stays away from your face. Bet Jer' 'n Angel ain't got a clue, do they? Sure as shit you didn't tell 'em. Ma probably knows something's wrong, just not what. You know she does. Yeah real smart, kid. Helps that you're so stupid though."_

_"Shut up, Bobby," Jack grumbled._

_"You said it," Bobby mimicked Jack's shrug. "You're stupid. I knew you were dumb, but I didn't know I had a complete idiot for a brother. How long this been goin' on? This like a game? Huh? He only hits you where no one can see and you keep your mouth shut, so that makes it okay?"_

_"Stop."_

_"No. I ain't gonna stop! You ain't some little kid no more, Jack. This ain't your daddy." Bobby's words cut deep, and he was almost sorry for them – almost. "Who is he? Just some punk ass kid. You can fight, Jack. Shit, I_ know  _you can fight. I taught you. Why you lettin' this bitch beat you? Huh? I'd kick your ass if this '_ shithead _' wasn't doin' such a damn good job!_

_"Leave it_ alone _."_

_"Yeah, sure, Jackie. I'll leave it. Come back in six months to find you in the damn hospital."_

_"You're not here," Jack hissed. "You don't care. You come around once, maybe two times a year, and yeah, then you care. But what about when you're gone?"_

_"Is that what this shit is?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Some little fuckin' tantrum like you used to throw when you were a kid and I left? You tryin' to get my attention? Mad 'cause I ain't around? Grow the fuck up, Jack."_

_"That ain't –" Jack started and then stopped, his jaw snapping closed. "You don't know shit, Bobby."_

_That last part was said so quietly, yet so coldly, it made Bobby momentarily silent._

_Before either could speak, a soft knock on the door claimed their attention. Neither son needed to ask who was there. None of the brothers ever knocked._

_"Jack," Evelyn walked in the room, her voice and expression calm, though Bobby saw a glint in her eye that told him she knew something was going on between the two of them, and with Jack._

_"Rebecca Shaw from across the street is here," Evelyn explained evenly. "She says Devon is just about in tears. He_ apparently  _was trying to add burns to his costume – don't ask me why. Something about zombies and end of the world. If I didn't know you'd been away, I would suspect you have him the idea, Bobby." She chuckled and the room somehow the tension in the room began to soften simply by her presence alone. "She wanted me to ask you if Devon could borrow something of yours to wear. Not that I entirely approve of your constant insistence to have everything you own have some sort of skull or demon or creature or blood on it." She finished with a small smile._

_Jack slid onto the floor lazily and reached under the bed. All of the brothers kept a box of clothing that they no longer wore, along with other outdated personal belongings such as old music or toys, as per their mother's instruction. She had an entire basement stacked full with their childhood games, action figures and clothes, along with those of other children that people donated to her. She was always hoarding anything she could find and then giving it away to the kids in her case files, around the neighborhood, at church and anywhere else she found a child in need. She wanted to instill that kindness in her sons and had started to make them be responsible for their own discarded belongings._

_Jack rummaged through a cardboard box before dragging out a few piles from underneath his bed. Some of it looked suspiciously like hidden dirty laundry while the rest had simply not yet been sorted into the box._

_There was one item, though, that caught both brothers' eyes._

_It rested on the floor, separate from the other heaps of clothes. Unlike the rest, this article of fabric was neatly folded._

_Jack ran his hand over the embroidered number before realizing he had an audience. Self-consciously shoving the shirt to the side, Jack handed his mother a shirt that looked like an x-ray of the wearer's skeleton with a pair of gloves and hat Evelyn had made years ago to match._

_She didn't speak as she left; only pausing to cast Bobby a knowing glance before closing the door._

_Without words, Bobby returned to his spot on the carpet and leaned over to swipe up the rejected shirt._

_"What the hell?" Jack spat. "Give it back."_

_"Hey, it_ is  _mine. Well, it_ was  _yours. I mean, hell, I gave it to you. But I gave it to my brother. Not my sister. I gave this to a Jack that punched a kid three times his size without so much as flinching. Not some pussy who won't even leave her bedroom. Maybe I'll give it someone else. Some other kid."_

_"I know what you're doing, Bobby," Jack leaned back and rolled his eyes. "Won't work."_

_"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about , little brother," Bobby shook his head._

_They were silent for a long time before Bobby finally spoke, his tone softer than either was accustom to._

_"You know, Jackie, just 'cause I ain't around or don't call a whole hell of a lot, don't mean I don't care," he sighed. "You know that. I woulda' never left if I didn't know that you couldn't take care 'a yourself."_

Bobby couldn't remember much else of that conversation. Not that he would've ever admitted to any part of it anyway. He did remember Jack leaving that night and coming back the next morning with a black eye, but a bright smile. Bobby never did learn the name of the guy who had been using his baby brother for target practice. It was probably a good thing too. According to Jack, the kid wasn't going to be back to school for a few days. If it had been Bobby at that party, the kid most likely wouldn't have ever been able to go back to school.

The memory sparked a curious thought in Bobby's mind. The eldest Mercer reached out his arm underneath his brother's bed. He didn't need to look. He recognized what he was looking for instantly by the feel of the familiar fabric.

Pulling the dusty and aged jersey out into the light, Bobby felt his insides burning. Though Jack had taken it everywhere, Bobby hadn't known this. It was obvious, though, with its new rips and stains that the garment hadn't been sitting underneath the bed forgotten all this time.

The symbol of Bobby's protection over Jack seemed to be mocking the eldest brother. He had failed to keep Jack safe. He was the reason Jack was dead.

_No._ Bobby reminded himself.  _Victor Sweet is the reason Jackie's dead._

He had to tell himself that. Over and over again. It was all he could do just to make through each day with his guilt. It had nearly killed him in the beginning. It took both his remaining brothers to keep the eldest Mercer alive. But they had.

Had Bobby found this jersey only a few months ago, it probably would've been enough to send him promptly reeling over the edge.

It still stabbed at his heart and inflated his guilt, but he didn't immediately go and blow his brains out like he had imagined doing so many times after the was still needed. Jerry and Angel still needed him, needed his protecting too. He had even saved Sofi when her ex-boyfriend came around when Angel wasn't home. The jealous and raving man had come to the house, seeking out blood. Bobby had walked in the front door just as he was pinning Sofi to the hallway wall. His nieces had even grown fond of their uncle. Bobby had never imagined the word "babysit" would be in his particular vocabulary, of course, neither had Jerry or Camille. They parents had been wary but desperate for a sitter. Bobby had taken the girls to the lake and taught them how to skip rocks, and how to throw a punch. Three weeks later, when a boy at Daniela's school had pulled her pigtails and tried to push her in the mud, he received a proper Bobby-style punch to the face.

So he stayed. He stayed to protect his family.

For his mother.

For Jack.

He couldn't imagine what either of them would think if he left or killed himself. That was a guilt worse than what he was already bearing.

It was Jack's turn to protect Bobby. He was the reason the eldest Mercer remained alive.

And that night as Bobby laid the folded jersey at his brother's grave, he realized, he wasn't alone. Not really. Jack may have been in a box in the ground underneath him, but Bobby could still feel his presence and that protection surround him.

 


End file.
